


Sam Winchester Loves Salad

by EstelUndomiel (capn_cecil_ang)



Series: Destiel 'spur of inspiration' one-shots [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: -Ish, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Car Sex, Car washing, Castiel fucks with Dean, Crack, Dean fucks Castiel, I Don't Even Know, M/M, One Shot, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), not in front of my salad, reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23771593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capn_cecil_ang/pseuds/EstelUndomiel
Summary: Sam Winchester just wants to eat his salad in peace. But nor him neither his salad are prepared for the trauma that awaits them when Castiel chooses to help Dean wash Impala.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel 'spur of inspiration' one-shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679482
Comments: 19
Kudos: 122





	Sam Winchester Loves Salad

**Author's Note:**

> You ever got this feeling when you want to read something hella specific, but even after an hour of scrolling through Ao3 tags, nothing really fits, so you decide to write it yourself? This is that case.  
> Also, I was working on other Destiel fic of mine and they were washing Impala there and my mind started to wander, you know... but that other fic is a massive slow-burn, so I couldn't really have them do this in there. Hence this one-shot was born.  
> Hope you'll like it.  
> Kudos and comments are always welcomed (:

Sam Winchester loves salad. In fact, it’s his favorite food. Most people think salads are boring. But not Sam. Sam knows better. Because salad has something that other food doesn’t. It has variety. You can make fruit salad, vegetable salad. You can add meat into it, or create a vegetarian salad. You like eggs? Add them. You hate them? No worries. Because there are loads of salad varieties in the world.

And so it happens, that during one of the lazier days, Sam is making his afternoon salad in the bunker’s kitchen. He’s about to pour vinegar over his mix when Castiel appears behind him.

“Hello, Sam,” he announces himself.

“Jesus Christ!” Sam jumps out of his skin, apple vinegar splashing all around him. “Cas,” he groans, turning around to face the angel. “Stop doing that!”

“I’m... sorry,” Castiel says, shifting his gaze around the kitchen. “Is uh, Dean here?” he asks.

“Yeah, he’s in the garage. Washing Impala. Why do you—?”

Before Sam can finish his question, though, Castiel disappears again.

“I swear to God,” Sam shakes his head, returning to his meal. 

If there is one thing in the world, Dean loves more or just as much as his brother, it’s his car. He cares about her, cherishes her, and takes care of her when she needs it. Because she takes care of him when he needs it. And so, when the supernatural creature's radar is on the down low, Dean decides to show his baby a little love and wash her. But he can’t be washing her without proper music. So when Castiel materializes in the garage, Dean is sitting behind the wheel, trying to find the right station to listen to.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greets the other man. Dean jerks, hitting his head on the roof of the car.

“Fuck! Cas,” he swears, getting out of the car. “Stop doing this.”

He shoves the door closed and rubs his crown. “What’s going on? You’ve got a case?”

“No,” Castiel admits, looking at the car. “I was wondering what you are doing.”

Dean cocks his eyebrows. “What like... you’re bored, so you thought you’d stop by, see what we’re up to?”

Castiel looks down to the ground, shrugging. “Yes.”

Dean can’t fight away a heartfelt laugh as he makes a few steps closer to Castiel. He clasps a hand on the angel’s shoulder, trying to calm himself down. “Oh, man. This is priceless. Well, tell you what. I don’t know what Sam is doing—”

“He’s making a sustenance,” Castiel interjects.

“Right,” Dean nods. “Sounds about right.” He looks around, clasping his hands together. “Well, I was just about to wash Impala. Do you… wanna help?”

“I’d like to,” Castiel says, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Ok,” Dean shrugs and walks towards the car again. “I’m gonna park her outside. You uh,” he checks Castiel up and down. “You might wanna change your clothes, though. I’m sure you don’t want to get your precious trench coat messy.”

Castiel looks down at himself. Dean knows he could quickly put himself together after, with his angelic powers. But he’s sure Castiel would be more comfortable if he didn’t have five layers on him. Dean himself compromised and downplayed his usual wardrobe to only jeans and a gray t-shirt. The sudden sound of fluttering wings indicates that Castiel flew away.

Dean shrugs and gets into the car, parking her outside of the garage. When he gets out of her, there’s that fluttering sound again. And when Dean turns around, his heart skips a beat.

“C-Cas... what’s this?” Dean asks, dumbfounded.

Castiel looks down at himself, then back at Dean. He tilts his head slightly to the side, furrowing his brows. “You told me to change, Dean.”

“Yeah, but,” Dean throws his hands in desperation. “Not into... are those my clothes?”

Castiel is indeed wearing Dean’s clothes, specifically his jeans and a black t-shirt. And Dean wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the thought of his clothes smelling like Castiel later drives him crazy.

“Should I change back?” Castiel’s voice tears Dean away from his thoughts. He focuses his eyes back at the angel and licks his lips. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Go grab the hose and that blue bucket by the door.”

Castiel turns around and makes his way towards the garage. And Dean can’t help but let his eyes slide down Castiel’s back and look at his butt. _Fuck._ Dean swears, thankful that Castiel has enough decency not to eavesdrop on his thoughts.

“Dean?” Castiel asks as he’s coming back with the tools Dean asked him to bring. “You know I could make your car clean faster.”

Dean steps towards the angel, and this time around, it’s Dean who ignores the personal space between them. He reaches for the hose and takes it. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “But this will be more fun.”

He licks his lips, and his eyes shift to Castiel’s for a moment. “Can you, uh, go turn on the water for me, Cas?”

Dean is expecting Castiel to turn around and go turn on the water manually. And again, Dean wouldn’t admit it out loud. But he’s planning on checking his ass again, now when he has a chance. Because that trench coat of his leaves too much for imagination for his liking. But Dean, in his momentary lapse of logic, forgets who’s standing in front of him. And so Castiel makes a turning motion with his wrist and the hose spurts all over Dean’s face.

“FUCKING HELL!” Dean shouts, throwing the hose away.

They didn’t even start yet, and he’s already wet as a mouse, water dripping from his hair and nose. And if it wasn’t a hot day, Dean would whoop Castiel’s ass right here and now. But the cold water is refreshing in the heat of the summer sun. And so Dean just glares at the angel. As his eyes lie on Castiel, he can swear, the angel is smirking. _Oh, really?_ He thinks, wheels turning in his head, preparing a plan. _Well, you better put your guard up, Cas. Cause you’re gonna be soaking wet by the time I’ll be finished with you._

Dean takes a sponge from the bucket filled with warm water and throws it at Castiel. It hits Castiel’s chest as the angel catches it, and it leaves a soapy wet spot in the middle of Castiel’s torso.

“I’ll hose her down, then you can start washing her,” Dean says and bends down to take the hose from the ground.

Castiel waits until Dean does as he said he would, then starts washing the car with a sponge. He saw Dean doing it a few times, so he knows what to do. Still, he thinks it would be much easier to snap his fingers and be done with it. But as he’s washing the car, he slowly finds it relaxing and even a bit productive. _This might be the whole point of it._ He muses. _To do something with the time, when there’s nothing better to do._

“I’m gonna grab another sponge real quick,” he can hear Dean’s voice saying, and he hums in agreement.

_This isn’t that bad._ Castiel thinks as he moves to the trunk and leans over to wash the back window. The sun is warm on his skin; the water is trickling down his arm and under his shirt, tickling him. The smell of soap is gentle on his nose, and the faint music from the car is putting him in a good mood. _Sometimes the human way is better, I suppose._ Castiel mulls over and stretches to get to the spot he missed.

As Dean walks back outside, another sponge in his hand, he sees Castiel reaching up towards the upper right corner of the back window. His t-shirt rides up as he does it, revealing the smooth alabaster skin of its owner. Castiel squeezes the sponge, and a trickle of soapy water runs down his arm and hides under the t-shirt. Dean swallows hard and licks his lips. He wants to move, wants to say something. But he finds himself glued to the place he’s standing.

Castiel straightens up and makes his way towards the bucket of water. He doesn’t seem to notice Dean, as he bends down and soaks the sponge in the warm liquid. Dean bites his lower lip, squeezing his dry sponge in his hand. _Why didn’t he take Sam’s clothes? Sam’s baggy, too-big-for-him clothes._ Dean’s eyes linger on Castiel’s ass, perfectly molded in Dean’s jeans. _Wait a minute._ Dean frowns. _Is he... going commando?_ Dean’s breath hitches in his throat.

It’s then that Castiel turns around and notices Dean. He sends him a huge, happy grin, and returns to work on the back of the Impala.

Dean closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat. _I’m so screwed._ And with this thought, he makes his way towards the front of the car, the furthest from Castiel he can.

Dean tries to focus on work, he really does. But from time to time, his will lingers, and his eyes travel to the dark-haired angel. Angel, whose pale skin shines in the afternoon sun, and bright eyes sparkle whenever they meet Dean’s. Whose full lips form into a smile when he catches Dean staring at him. And at that moment, Dean’s only wish is to slam the angel against the car and ravish him. But he knows Castiel wouldn’t want that. So Dean buries his twisted thoughts deep inside his mind and returns his focus on washing his baby.

After they’re done with washing Impala, Dean takes a hose and asks Castiel to turn on the water again. This time, he’s careful not to face it towards himself. And when the water spurts, he aims it towards the car, diligently washing away every sign of soap. Castiel takes the bucket with sponges and goes to empty it to the garage’s sink. Dean is spraying the car, waiting for his opportunity to hose down Castiel. But Castiel doesn’t seem to show up. Dean narrows his eyes suspiciously and looks towards the garage back entrance. “What the hell?” he mumbles.

At that moment, Castiel’s voice sounds near Dean’s ear. “Guess again.”

Dean jumps, dropping the hose down. His hunter’s instincts kick in, and he grabs Castiel by the collar, pinning him against Impala’s front door. Then he blinks, realizing what he has done. But he’s too hyped up to pull away. And so he stands there, his body flushed against Castiel’s, their faces only inches away.

“I told you,” Dean growls at the angel, “do not creep up on me like that.”

For a moment, Dean thinks he’s dreaming or hallucinating. Because he swears that Castiel’s mouth turns into a cocky smirk. _He’s fucking with me._ Dean realizes.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” Castiel asks, his voice hoarse and defiant.

Dean’s eyes flicker to Castiel’s lips as he speaks, and he can’t stop himself anymore. He launches himself at the angel, kissing him hard. Whatever space was between their bodies, it’s gone now. Dean pins Castiel, his hips bucking into the angel.

Suddenly, there’s only air where Castiel was before. Dean falls over, landing on the car’s door. “What the...?” he huffs, turning around. Castiel’s gone.

“Fuck!” Dean swears. “Congratu-fucking-lations!” he barks at himself. “Great way to scare him away. Fucking think with your big brain next time, Dean!”

In the moment of exasperation, Dean doesn’t hear wings fluttering. And so when Castiel’s voice sounds, Dean jumps again. “Took you long enough to make a move,” the angel says.

“Cas,” Dean exclaims, wide-eyed, facing the other man again. “I’m... so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Dean,” Castiel says, and something in his voice makes Dean shut up. He licks his lips, and his eyes travel down Castiel’s body. Then he realizes Castiel’s holding something. _Is that fucking lube?_ Dean feels his pants tightening.

When he looks back at Castiel, he has that cocky grin again. “Think we will need this, don’t you?”

“You little fucker,” Dean huffs a laugh and grabs Castiel by the collar again. He turns them around, so Castiel is once again pinned down to Impala. Dean crashes their lips together, demanding access to Castiel’s mouth. Castiel complies without hesitation, completely giving himself to Dean. And Dean feels he’s not the only one whose pants are getting tight.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathes out as he breaks the kiss. “Bent over the hood,” he says, his voice shaky and breathy.

Castiel complies immediately, moving to bend over the hood of Impala. He sticks his ass out, inviting Dean to do whatever he wants.

“Fuck,” Dean lets out again, leaning over Castiel. He bends down to Castiel’s ear and whispers. “You sure about this, Cas?”

Castiel’s hand reaches back to grab Dean’s ass, flushing their hips together. Dean moans as his hard-on touches Castiel’s ass.

“Would I bring you the fucking lube if I wasn’t sure, Dean?” Castiel retorts.

“Good point,” Dean finds enough willpower to get another logical sentence out of him. Then he loses it altogether. He pulls Castiel’s pants down, hastily fumbling with the lube. It takes longer than he thought to open it up, and he’s starting to lose patience.

“Dean,” Castiel growls in frustration, and Dean senses the spark of electricity shot down his spine.

“Just a sec, Cas,” Dean assures him. He finally opens the lid and squirts the sticky liquid on his fingers.

Then he grabs Castiel’s hip with one hand, the other making a round motion at his entrance. Castiel squirms under his touch and lets out a weak gasp.  
Without further warning, Dean slides a finger into Castiel’s ass.

“Aargh, Dean!” Castiel gasps, throwing his head backward.

Not long after, Dean adds another finger, scissoring Castiel open. Castiel squirms and moans under Dean’s touch, begging him for more. And Dean complies.  
He pulls his fingers out and bends down to get the bottle of lube. He threw it on the ground in haste before. Now he picks it up again, fighting with the slippery material.

“Dean,” Castiel moans, bucking his hips towards Dean’s.

“Just a sec, Cas,” Dean says, frustrated with the lube. He fucking hates this thing. But he’d hate hurting Castiel more.

“There!” he exclaims triumphantly, as he squirts a good amount of lube on his palm. He pulls down his jeans and boxers quickly, lubing up his cock.

“Ok, Cas,” he breathes out, steadying Castiel with a hand on his hip. “You ready?”  
Castiel’s head turns, and he gives him a half begging, half annoyed look. “I was ready yesterday,” he says, the annoyed tone slightly undermined by his breathy neediness.

Dean licks his lips and steadies himself as he slides inside Castiel.

Castiel moans loudly, spreading his hands over the hood of Impala. He tries to find something he can grab onto, but to no avail. Dean pulls back, then slides back in, this time even deeper. A guttural moan lets him know he’s on the right path and so he repeats the motion a few more times. Then he leans above Castiel, his free hand sliding under his t-shirt. He finds Castiel’s hardened nipple and squeezes it, making Castiel moan again.   
Soon they find a suitable rhythm. Dean thrusting into Castiel hard and deep, Castiel meeting his thrust with his hips.

It isn’t long, and Dean is close to coming. “Cas I... I’m gonna—”

“Don’t stop,” Castiel interjects, his hand reaching backward again, trying to pull Dean even closer to him.

Dean collapses on Castiel, burying deep into the angel as he comes into his ass. His hand grabs the hem of Castiel’s sleeve, holding on to him tightly. He rides out his orgasm, nuzzling into the back of Castiel’s neck, whispering his name repeatedly.

When Dean can finally move again, he slides out of Castiel. He’s still breathy and sweaty, and Castiel is equally at a loss of breath. He slowly turns to face Dean, leaning against the hood of the car.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean says, the only thing his brain is possible to formulate right now.

Castiel looks at him, his gaze hazy and faraway. Then Dean looks down between them and realizes Castiel didn’t come yet.

_We can’t have that, can we?_ Dean finds his thoughts more articulate than his mouth, and so he makes his actions speak. He leans in and kisses Castiel’s neck, gently sucking at the ivory skin. Then his hand slides between Castiel’s thighs, and he knows he’s doing something right when he hears Castiel gasps. 

“Dean,” Castiel moans, grabbing the back of Dean’s shirt. He hugs Dean in a tight embrace, burying his face in Dean’s neck. He closes his eyes and breathes in Dean’s sweaty and sweet aroma. He grew to know and love Dean’s smell over the years. And he bucks his hips to meet in the rhythm of Dean’s hand, as the other man helps him get that sweet release.

Castiel is close, too close, and in a split of a moment, he’s coming into Dean’s palm, his name on his lips.

Sam is walking down the stairs of the garage, the bowl of salad in his hand. He made too much of it, as usual. And although he knows Dean doesn’t like ‘rabbits food’, he’s positive he can persuade him to join him if he throws a few burgers into the mix.

But when Sam reaches the backdoor of the garage, he’s met with the sight he never wanted to witness. Castiel is lying on the hood of Impala, Dean on top of him. Both of their pants are down, Dean’s freckled ass shining brightly in the sun. And they are kissing lazily, in the aftermath of orgasmic bliss. The hose lays on the ground near them, water still trickling from it. But two men seem to be preoccupied with each other to notice.

Sam stares at them, not able to do anything but stand there, eyes wide.

“Not in front of my salad,” he whimpers, protecting his salad from the trauma with his giant hand.


End file.
